A Dolphin's Gift

by Watters, Patricia

  "So I guessed," Will replied, eyeing the little dog, who stared at him, unblinking. Just as Zeke was staring at Nellie Reid, the tip of its tail flicking with displeasure. There were dog people and there were cat people, and Nellie Reid was obviously a dog person, and he sensed Zeke knew. But he'd always been a cat person—he'd never owned a dog—and if dogs could glare, the mutt looking up at him was definitely glaring.

  "About the boat," Nellie said, drawing Will's gaze to her face. "My son and I will be living on it now, so I'll need to contact someone about moving it to an open slip."

  "That's impossible," Will replied.

  Nellie's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean impossible? It's my boat. I have title."

  "And I had an agreement with your uncle," Will said, "exclusive use of the boat for two months."

  Nellie lifted her chin and looked directly at him. "Whatever you claim is without basis," she said. "Nothing in my uncle's will gives anyone exclusive right to it except me."

  "That's where you're wrong."

  "Do you have a contract?"

  "We had a verbal agreement," Will said. "In exchange for the work I've been doing, your uncle gave me exclusive use of the boat for two months."

  Nellie's eyes slowly scanned the Isadora, while her lips turned down in displeasure. She let out a short cynical grunt, and said, "What work? The Isadora looks terrible. I can't imagine what you've done that gives you use of the boat for two months."

  "She's been completely rewired, and I've done extensive work both inside and outside the hull," Will explained, while struggling to hold his temper in check. The woman looked primed for battle, and he didn't have the time or patience to deal with her.

  "I'm sorry about that," Nellie said, "but it’s my boat, and my son and I have no place to go. I assure you, we will be living on it."

  Will looked at the woman with concern. "What do you mean you have no place to go? I thought you lived in Medford?"

  "We do... That is, we did," Nellie said. "I had to let the apartment go." She looked at the Isadora in dismay. "Even if there is something to what you're claiming, I refuse to pay for an apartment when I have a legal right to live on my boat. I'll reimburse you for your work if you can confirm your hours with a time log, and the cost of materials with receipts."

  Mike tugged at Nellie's arm. "I don't want to live on that crummy old boat," he said. "I think I'm going to throw up."

  Nellie crouched in front of Mike. "Remember what Dr. Emery said, honey. Take a deep breath..." She inhaled in unison with Mike. "In… and out… in… and out…"

  "Is he sick?" Will asked.

  "No," Nellie said. "He's upset."

  "I still don't want to live on that boat," Mike whined.

  Nellie stood and pressed her fingers to her temples and closed her eyes for a few moments, then opened them again, looked at Mike, and said, "We are living on the boat and that's that! At least it will be a roof over our heads." She looked at Will then, daring him to object.

  Which he did, since what she was asking was out of the question. "Sorry, I can't allow it. I have expensive sonar equipment aboard and I'm scheduled to leave here in two weeks to conduct a whale study."

  "And we have no place to go!" Nellie snapped, hands braced on her hips.

  Will looked at the woman, who'd planted herself squarely in front of him, then glanced down at the boy's hostile face. The last thing he needed, two weeks before cruising out of here, was a homeless widow with a kid and a dog taking over the Isadora and meddling with his equipment. He needed peace, and quiet, and time to finish the work on the boat so he could get up the strait while the orca were still there. One week's delay could mean failure for his study and loss of funding for the continuation of his research.

  But he couldn't leave the woman and her son standing on the dock. "I suppose you can stay tonight," he said, then immediately wished he could retract his words.

  "That's exactly what... we intend... to do," Nellie said in a plodding voice. "Now... is there a store nearby where... we can get some cleaning stuff—mops brooms... things like that..." her eyelids drifted closed, and she pressed her hands against her stomach.

  "You okay?" Will asked.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Umm… yes… things just started tilting a little. I'm fine now."

  Will rested his hand on her shoulder. "You look pale," he said, eyeing her closely. "When did you last eat?"

  She waved her hand. "I don't remember... that is—"

  "You don't remember when you last ate?" Releasing a sigh of resignation, Will said, "Come up to the apartment. I was just getting ready to fix some sandwiches."

  "No thank you," Nellie clipped, her voice a little stronger. "We didn't come here for handouts, only to take possession of our boat."

  Will noted the uncompromising set of her mouth and the deepening hue of her hazel eyes as she peered up at him. She might be a half foot shorter than he, and hampered by her current predicament, but he suspected he was going to have one hell of a time convincing her that for the next two months the Isadora was his, and his alone.

  Meanwhile, what he didn't need right now was Nellie Reid passing out from hunger, leaving him alone to deal with her hostile son. But she'd also refused to accept his offer of sandwiches. "Fine then, I'll put the sandwiches on your rent tab, say, fifty cents for each sandwich and ten cents for milk?"

  "That will be fine," Nellie clipped. "Come along Mike."

  Mike stood his ground, eyes focused on Will. "I'll stay here."

  Will peered down at a defiant young face. "Fine. Suit yourself."

  Nellie looked askance at Mike, now crouched beside Katy. "I'll bring your sandwich down," she said. "Stay with Katy and don't go near the edge of the dock."

  "We'd better hurry," Will said, uneasy about leaving the boy unattended near the boat, with all his tools and equipment on deck. As he climbed the stairs, followed closely behind by Nellie Reid, he commented, "I suppose you'll be wanting to sell the Isadora now." He felt certain most of her problems would be resolved if she had money. He could wait until after he'd completed his whale study to collect the back rent. Once the Isadora was stripped of her old paint and varnish, and refinished to its original state, and had her brass fittings polished, she'd sell quickly. Older craft with fine workmanship like the Isadora went fast...

  "Sell?" Nellie's voice was incredulous. "I have no intention of selling. As I said, my son and I plan to live on it. But first we have to find an inexpensive place to moor it. And when I have a job, everything will be fine."

  Will paused mid-step, his hand tightening on the hand rail. "You're unemployed?"

  She shrugged. "I was fired."

  Great! A homeless widow with a boy and a dog. And no job! "I see," he said with a heavy sigh as he plodded up the stairs.

  "Well, you don't really, but that's neither here nor there," Nellie's words trailed after him. And she was right, Will conceded. It was neither here nor there. He held a lien on the Isadora, so either way, he’d collect his money.

  Once inside the apartment, he let Zeke slip from under his arm. The cat scampered off, and in one fluid motion, leapt onto the window ledge. Will went to the refrigerator and retrieved a tomato, a head of lettuce, mustard, mayonnaise, a jar of pickles, a block of cheese and a platter holding the whittled-down remains of a ham.

  Nellie stood at the sink gazing through the window at the dock below, her hands resting on the counter. Noticing that she still wore her wedding ring, Will asked, "How long has it been since your husband... uh…" his words trailed off.

  "About a year and a half," Nellie replied. "Mike’s still going through a period of adjustment, as you may have guessed."

  Will started slicing ham. "You said you'd been fired... that is... you lost your job."

  "Well, it isn't like you think," Nellie said. "It's not easy to hold down a job and raise a child alone. Most men don't realize that. Kids get sick and they get into scraps at school. And there are other problems, like
teacher conferences and chicken pox, and washing machines overflowing. When I asked to get off work to come here, my boss thought I'd taken off too much time already, so he fired me. Well, terminated my position. I do get some unemployment."

  Will tossed several scraps of ham into Zeke's bowl and the tabby left his perch on the window ledge to inspect the tidbits. Crouched over the bowl, the tip of his tail waving with contentment, he devoured the ham. Placing some scraps in another bowl, Will glanced at Nellie. And what kind of man would turn a widow in Nellie Reid's situation out of her own boat? But he'd had an agreement with her uncle. Plans were made, sonar equipment installed, the Isadora almost ready. He also reminded himself that Nellie Reid was not his problem. His first commitment was to the Marine Science Institute and the foundation funding his research. And for that, he needed the Isadora. "This is for your dog," he said, setting the bowl on the counter.

  Nellie looked up, surprised by Will's thoughtfulness. "Thanks," she replied. She moved beside him to help with the sandwiches. As he began to spread a glob of mayonnaise on a slice of bread, she yelped, "Wait!" He looked at her with curiosity. "Mike doesn't eat mayonnaise or pickles or mustard on his sandwich. Actually, he doesn't eat tomatoes or lettuce either." She waved a finger over the bread. "Just put ham and a slice of cheese on plain bread. Do you have white bread?"

  "No."

  Nellie sighed. "Well, he's probably pretty hungry by now. Cheese, ham and bread with the crust cut off will be fine. But you can put the pickles on the side."

  "You said he doesn't eat pickles."

  "He doesn't like soggy sandwiches, and pickles make the bread soggy. Look, let me do this. I know what he likes."

  "Umm," Will hummed, his tone indicating displeasure as he handed Nellie the knife.

  "We appreciate this," Nellie said, sensing negative vibes about Mike's eating habits. She admitted, Mike was a little spoiled, but he'd suffered so much after the accident, and she'd been so afraid of losing him too, that during his recovery she'd hovered over him day and night. And once home from the hospital, she'd jumped to his every whim. But as soon as they were settled again, she'd be more forceful and less tolerant when the occasion warranted.

  She brought Mike his sandwich and remained with him while they ate. But afterwards, when Will joined them on deck, she approached him again about cleaning the Isadora, asking about a store where she could buy cleaning supplies. Will begrudgingly loaned her a mop, a broom, a scrub brush, a bottle of ammonia, and a bucket of warm water with a sponge bobbing on the surface. He explained he was doing work on the engine and Mike must not disturb any of his tools on deck.

  Maneuvering between rags and tools, Nellie, followed by Mike with Katy under his arm, stepped into the salon. A musty aroma filled the compartment. She gazed around, trying to come to terms with the neglected state of the once-glorious vessel. The worn carpet was blotched with stains, there was mildew on the faded curtains and upholstered furniture, and woodwork that once gleamed with a soft natural patina was scratched and badly in need of refinishing.

  Mike released Katy and the little dog scurried off, nose to the floor, tail wagging with excitement as she darted in figure-eight patterns while tracking odors, until Nellie stepped back, tripping over Katy and sending water sloshing over the edge of the bucket.

  "Katy!" she yelped. Katy lowered her tail and peered up at Nellie. "I'm sorry," Nellie said, holding Katy's black-eyed stare. "Mike, lock her in that compartment." She pointed to a door to what she remembered as a cabin with two berths.

  "Fo'c'sle," Will's voice came from behind.

  "What?" Nellie looked around to find Will peering into the compartment.

  "Fo'c'sle," he repeated. "The compartment below the forward deck's the fo'c'sle. You might as well learn proper nautical terms if you're going to eventually live on the boat."

  "What do you mean eventually?" Nellie said, irritated that the man not only emphasized the word eventually, but he refused to concede that this was her boat, and she had a right to live on it. "We're staying right now," she said, "unless, of course, you can come up with eviction papers or a written contract signed by my uncle. So I suggest you find another boat."

  Will peered down at her. "And unless you can come up with three-thousand, three-hundred and sixty dollars, I can foreclose and force you to sell to pay the back rent."

  "And I know something about due process!" Nellie snapped. Reaching into her purse, she withdrew her checkbook, scribbled out a check, ripped it from the checkbook and snapped out her hand. "Here's a check for one hundred dollars. You can't foreclose as long as I'm making an effort, in good faith, to pay." Nellie noted the resolute set to Will's jaw as he drew in a long breath through flared nostrils. But she refused to let him bully her. And she had every intention of remaining on the boat, as planned.

  "That doesn't pay for the time I put in making repairs," Will said, refusing the money. "And I can find a dozen people around here who'll confirm my agreement with your uncle. So even if you do pay the rent, I'll still be using the Isadora for the next two months, exclusively."

  "And let me remind you that I have title, and if you leave with my boat, I'll have you arrested for grand theft!" Nellie said, her voice rising.

  Will folded his arms to keep from reaching out and shaking the stubborn impossible woman. Nellie Reid and her son were a complication he didn't need. But once alone at sea with the whales, this whole untimely episode in his life would be forgotten...

  "Now, if you'll excuse me," Nellie said, glaring at him, "I want to clean up the boat, figure out a way to cook meals in this mess, and settle my son and myself into our quarters. Beyond those simple needs, I refuse to dwell." Turning her back to him, she grabbed the sponge bobbing on the surface of the water and started wiping down the table.

  Mumbling a string of expletives under his breath, Will turned abruptly and left.

  CHAPTER 2

  Nellie hoped things would somehow resolve themselves in the light of a new day, but she soon realized how wrong she was. While crouched on her knees on the floor of the salon, with a scrub brush in her hand, she peered up at Will and listened while he made another attempt to convince her to leave. "Look, if my apartment wasn't leased for the next two months," he said, in a conciliatory tone, "I'd let you stay there."

  "That's not the point," Nellie replied, in a crisp dry tone. "This boat is our home."

  "Legally, yes, but technically, no."

  Nellie glared at him. "You're being unjust and insensitive."

  "Unjust and insensitive!" Drawing in a long breath, Will said, "I know you're in a tight spot, but so am I. Can't you at least be reasonable?"

  "Yes, I can be reasonable. But uprooting my son again is not a reasonable alternative!" Nellie gripped the scrub brush and began vigorously attacking a soiled area of the carpet. She had enough to do trying to clean the place and bring it up to bare living standards without Will Edenshaw breathing fire down her back about finding a place to live during his whale study. "I don't see why you can't simply find another boat," she said, nettled.

  "It's not that simple," Will parried. "I've built supply boxes to fit on deck, I've installed special sonar devices, and I have equipment due to arrive any day that’s been customized for this boat. And since I'm committed to completing the whale study, I have to get up to Johnstone Strait while the salmon are running and there's a large population of orca around. Even if I could find another boat, there's no way I could get it ready in time. As it is, this one still needs lots of work, scraping, sanding, varnishing, painting, having the cushions reupholstered."

  Nellie saw the desperate look on Will's face. He was in a bind, just as she was. And she did owe him over three thousand dollars, money he wasn’t pressing her to pay at the moment. "I'm sorry this had to happen," she said, in a more mollifying tone. "I just don't know what to do about it. I don’t have enough money for temporary housing, and what little money I have will probably have to go to an expensive repair on my car." A disturbin
g thought she didn't even want to consider at the moment. She glanced around at the flaked and bubbled varnish on the wooden lockers and doors, and as she studied the shabby surfaces, an idea began to emerge.

  Painting and varnishing? Of course! She'd spent hours doing just that when she and Richard bought the old house. "Maybe I could do some of the work in exchange for paying off part of the rent," she suggested. "I've done lots of painting and varnishing. That way, you could keep working on whatever you're working on below, while I work up here." It would also give Mike something to do, and a little pocket money to keep him enthusiastic about doing it, just as she'd done with him at home...

  Will gave her a dubious look. "You couldn’t get much done with a boy to watch."

  "Mike wouldn't be any trouble. He'd be working too," Nellie assured him, sensing that Will Edenshaw had little patience with kids, realizing she'd have to keep Mike out of his way. "The way I see it, since you owed the work to my uncle for the use of the boat, you really owe it to me now that it's mine. So if my son and I refinish the woodwork and scrape the outside and paint it—" she paused and looked at him quizzically, and said, "Who's been paying for the materials?"

  "Your uncle set up an account, but it didn't cover all the expenses," Will explained. "I've had to pick up the slack. But I have everything I need now."

  "Good. Then if Mike and I do the work, we should be able to take off at least two month's back rent," Nellie said quickly, not wanting to give Will a chance to turn down her proposal. It was a very workable solution to their dilemma. "I assume I wouldn't have to pay rent as long as we're doing your work, since technically you'd still have the use of the boat."

  She contemplated her resourceful idea. If she didn't have to pay rent on the boathouse while working on the boat, that savings, added to the back rent she'd be working off, would represent more than she'd make at a job. So in essence, she'd earn over two thousand dollars for a few weeks work. And possibly some of the interior work could be completed while they were at sea. More important, she and Mike would be working together on their new home, which would give Mike a sense of belonging while developing in him a love for the Isadora. However, while they were docked, she'd look for a job for when they returned from Will's whale study.